


The Day the Humans had to Help

by OkieDokieB



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Full Moon, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-25 14:59:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3814753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OkieDokieB/pseuds/OkieDokieB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Yeah, doesn't sound all that hopeful for the old ticker lasting until next week, I'll pass."<br/>"Okay, I'll do it then."<br/>"Ugh, fine, OK, I changed my mind. Lydia, what did you not understand about 'stay very far away'? Other than, y'know, all of it?"<br/>Deaton glanced at Stiles to watch as he essentially threw himself under a bus for a pretty girl. If Scott had been there, however, he would not have been surprised one bit.<br/>But it would have thrown him off, however, that Stiles had conceded quite so quickly, and how he had not once looked at Lydia since she had arrived, instead periodically glancing out the high window of the veterinarian clinic to cast his pining looks at the moon instead.</p><p>or</p><p>Some kind of strange power born of the entire eradication of a neighboring pack is messing with the Beacon Hills wolf pack, and it's up to the human pack (on Deaton's annoyingly vague instruction) to grab some toiletries and maybe pocket Scrabble and stay with the most terrifying alpha known to human(-ish) history to try to get him through whatever was going on in his head, with the aid of pop-tarts and badly-concealed terror. In Style's case, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Day the Humans had to Help

**Author's Note:**

> let's do this thaang  
> fyi i think im really funny just a quick heads up there  
> im a nice person at heart tho
> 
> you are totally free to use the above introduction to pick up at the club. will work 11/10 times
> 
> also, im british and i spell things the british way.

“What’s he saying?”  
“Yep, yeah. ‘Course. Yeah-”  
“Stiles?”  
“Sure, whatever, Scott. Uh huh, that’s fine.”  
“Stiles.”  
“Will do, man. Stay safe, man. See you in 10.”  
“STI-”  
“Lydia, chill!” Stiles clicked the ‘END CALL’ button before throwing a wary glance toward the short-tempered redhead perched on the edge of his bed. Any other time, he would have been thrilled she was there but the current situation didn’t seem to warrant any reaction from him at all. “Scott just said that they’re almost home-”  
“Any injuries?” Lydia interrupted, a panicked expression on her face.  
“Just Isaac, got grazed by a wolfsbane bullet during-”  
“What happened to the other pack?” Stiles wanted to tell her something that would calm her down, but he was way too exhausted to come up with anything other than relay everything Scott had said over the phone.  
“Got split into two. The smaller half got taken down in less than 15 minutes, they estimate. The other half were so terrified they ended up scattering themselves before Scott could go through with the plan-”  
“What, as in they didn’t want to join his pack?” Lydia looked understandably confused; Scott could make a blind man see colour if he tried hard enough.  
“More like: as in they wouldn’t stop freaking out long enough to listen to him. Derek had thought that might happen, apparently. They’re all under a month old, in werewolf terms, and Liam still struggles with control, even now. It was such a stupid plan-”  
“Stiles.” Lydia’s warning tone silenced him. He sighed and slid his phone away from his shaking hands and onto his desk. Lydia watched him and placed a manicured hand delicately on top of his. It didn’t really help. “Your plan wasn’t the problem, the circumstances were. Trying to corral 28 rabid, supernatural pre-teens is one thing, but trying to do it when an envoy of highly-trained and highly-armed hunters were in the way is a total different one. No one could have predicted they would get there when they did, not even you.”

The reason Lydia and Stiles knew that the hunters (a group they had not encountered personally but rumours said came from the north) had interrupted Scott’s effort to get the 28 brand new beta’s to join his pack was by a hasty text from Isaac that read ‘the h jus got here, w’r 2 l8’. They had all agreed when Stiles had suggested a week before that a strong alpha would be a way to bring them within Beacon Valley territory and out of the hunter’s reach, but Stiles hadn’t even thought of the possibility that the hunters would attack today. He had, in basic terms, sent six of his friends straight into a slaughter house, dressed as cows.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.” Stiles met Lydia’s eyes, saw the hardness in the shape of her lips. Her voice was thick as she continued talking. He ignored his phone as it made a ding. “Twenty-eight werewolves were killed today. That means there are twenty-eight less reckless, dangerous supernatural creatures running around. Creatures that have already killed-”  
“They were only kids!” Styles couldn’t believe what she was saying. “And those murders could have been done by any werewolf!” His words sounded feeble to himself. He felt feeble all over, actually. Stiles shook his head before extracting himself from Lydia’s grasp and standing up. He knew she was just trying to make him feel better, but he didn’t think he’d feel better until he saw the whole pack at home and unharmed. He grabbed his phone as it ding-ed again.

Stiles.  
Animal Clinic. Bring Danny Mahealani, Kira, and Mr Argent. It’s incredibly important that you bring them all. The pack are in danger.  
-Deaton

“Lydia, we gotta go.” Stiles said hollowly before sprinting out of his room. He would text his dad why he wouldn't be in when he got home from the station later, but right now this was more important. He would also find out how Deaton got his number later, right now he was focusing on how 6 of his very close friends were in danger. 

And he would think coherent thoughts later, because more than anything, he was trying to figure out what the hell the other text he had received meant.

Stay very far away.

It was from Derek.

*  
Seventeen and a half minutes later, Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin, Danny Mahealani, Chris Argent, Kira Yukimura and Alan Deaton were crammed in the tense silence of the examination room of the Veterinary Clinic. Stiles was cursing himself silently for taking so long to gather everyone, but now they were all here and no one was saying anything anyway.

He almost broke the silence before Danny took it upon himself to. “Why the hell did Stiles have to drag me to a vet at 11:30? At Night?” Actually, Stiles had wondered that himself.  
Lydia flipped her hair. “We all know you know about werewolves, Danny. After all, from what I heard in pretty big detail from his twin brother, you did fu-”  
“Oh-kaay.” Stiles interrupted quickly, for all their sakes. But especially Mr Argent’s, who seemed confused, and Stiles wanted to keep it that way. “Back to the point at hand. Deaton? Also, what is the point at hand, if you will.”  
The man had been quiet and thoughtful all night, especially after Stiles had shown him the text from Derek. “What I’m about to tell you is going to require a lot of trust. From all of you.” He cast a cautionary glance at the congregation, as if daring them to challenge him. “I’ve only ever heard of this happening once before, and it was all rumours back then, but it seems its our most likely _________ right now.

“A werewolves instincts often parallel a wolf’s, even in a human state, such as their reliance and submission to an alpha. As you’re all aware. I believe that-” He locked eyes with who was directly in opposite him, on the other side of the table, which of course had to be Stiles. “I believe that the pack seeing a mass execution of werewolves is about to set off an incredibly strong survival instinct in each of them.” His vague statement was met with an empty silence.  
“So what, like, they get a little more growly and their personal bubble get’s bigger?” Stiles managed a weak fake laugh. “That’s not so bad, is it?”  
Deaton swallowed, as if he was trying to find the right words, which was uncharacteristic of the man Stiles had come to realise had an answer to everything.“By ‘survival instinct’, I mean that losing an extortionate number of potential pack members is going to-”  
“It’s going to make them want to make up for the loss, isn’t it.” Lydia said softly, eyes glassy, as if deep in thought.  
“You’re saying they’re going to make more werewolves?!” Chris Argent’s voice sounded like the cracking of metal hitting rock.  
“No, I’m saying they’re going to have an incredibly compelling urge to, essentially, increase the werewolf population, due to the hunter threat, the fact there are potentially new resources available now a pack has been eradicated, and that they survived and it’s a basic primal desire of any animal to continue it’s line.” Deaton finished calmly. Something about his words interested Stiles. It almost sounded as if he was mincing his words, which Deaton did not do. He never sugar-coated things that could be said directly, and some of the words he’d used seemed…

Stiles was overthinking it, obviously, as nobody else had, at least outwardly, noticed anything strange. Kira had even asked what they could do to help while he had been speculating.  
“We need to keep them separate, and we need to keep them under constant surveillance.” Deaton answered.  
Danny looked incredibly out of place against the wall behind Mr. Argent, but he looked less uncomfortable that Stiles would have guessed he would have been in this kind of situation. “So that’s why there’s six of us? One for each member of the pack?” He asked. Stiles had taken the courtesy of filling Kira, Mr. Argent and Danny in on the way over.  
“But surely,” Mr. Argent began, “only Scott and Derek need to be restrained. Only an Alpha can turn a human.”  
Something crossed Deaton’s face before it was gone and he had his calm demeanor again. Stiles almost missed it, if he had been watching him incredibly closely. “Beta’s can be incredibly resourceful when they believe their species is in danger of extinction.” Lydia suddenly tensed next to him. He glanced at her, but she only gave him a mildly troubled look before focusing on Deaton again. “It’s best that we keep them occupied until the instinct wears off.”  
“But we’re.. almost all human: by going to them, aren’t we giving them exactly what we’re trying to stop them from getting?” Lydia asked, and she sounded conniving. “Potential werewolves.” Stiles could have sworn she almost smirked, but she wouldn’t, not at a time like this? Would she?  
“The plan is to contain them in mountain ash for as long as needed, and simply make sure they don’t starve.”  
“That doesn’t sound… too bad…” Stiles said warily.  
“Except we’ll also have to keep them from tearing their claws off and ripping their hair out.” Mr. Argent said grimly. “A contained werewolf is a rabid werewolf.”  
Deaton only nodded solemnly. “They need to be distracted. Kept company. Day and night. Basically, you’ll only be away from them-”  
“-to pick up groceries and take a leak.” Stiles said flatly. “And how long is this supposed to last for?”  
“As long as it takes. I suspect maybe a week. The rumours didn’t specify.”

“How am I gonna explain this to my dad…” Stiles whined.  
“Let me worry about that.” Lydia said confidently. 

“So…” Kira started timidly. “Who’s with who?”  
“Derek’s our main concern since he’s the oldest alpha, as well as born werewolf. This will probably mean the instinct will be stronger, and he’ll go to more lengths to get what he wants. He also seems aware of what he’s doing,” Stiles had shown him the text the second he had arrived, “and this may also pose an issue. Any volunteers?” Derek’s text flared in Stiles’ mind. Stay very far away. Sure thing, pal. Stiles wasn’t gonna argue with that.  
“I can keep him sufficiently contained.” Mr. Argent said matter-of-factly.  
“Hey, hey, hey now. No way!” Stiles burst out before he realised what he was saying, let alone why he was waving his arms around. Everyone turned to look at him and he crossed them in integration. “I just mean, he has pretty… negative opinions of you, some may even call it a grudge against your entire family name, so will more likely dislike being held prisoner by you, which means,” that Derek would most-likely have to be chained up and hooked up to the mains for a week to keep him from shredding the Ex-Hunter. “,which means that Derek would change from a difficult to deal with werewolf to an incredibly difficult to deal with and bloodthirsty werewolf. My logic is sound. Stop staring at me.”  
Deaton looked ambiguously at him, as if Stiles had escaped from Eichen house yesterday, as opposed to two years previous. “Are you volunteering to stay with Derek?”  
"Yeah, doesn't sound all that hopeful for the old ticker lasting until next week, I'll pass." Stiles said a little too quickly, placing a hand over his breast-bone.  
"Okay, I'll do it then."  
"Ugh, fine, OK, I changed my mind. Lydia, what did you not understand about 'stay very far away'? Other than, y'know, all of it?"  
Deaton glanced at Stiles to watch as he essentially threw himself under a bus for a pretty girl. If Scott had been there, however, he would not have been surprised one bit.

But it would have thrown him off that Stiles had conceded quite so quickly, and how he had not once truly looked at Lydia since she had arrived at his house at 5 that afternoon, instead periodically glancing out the high window of the veterinarian clinic to cast his pining looks at the moon instead, when he thought no one was looking.

Which no one was, and Stiles didn't even realise he was doing it, so it wasn't all that much of a significant thing really.

“Okay.” Deaton said slowly. Everyone’s eyes moved from Styles’ burning face back to him. “Styles will stay with Derek. Any other specific preferences?”  
“Um, is it alright if I, y’know, look after Scott?” Kira asked, face flaming more than Stiles. Deaton nodded.  
“I’ll have Isaac.” Mr. Argent said, understandably. They had become very close since the incident involving Allison.  
“I actually think it’s best if you have Boyd. Second to Derek, hes the worst powerful physically.”  
“I’ll have Isaac then.”  
“I need you to have Malia, Lydia.” Deaton said quickly. “The instinct might be stronger in her, because she’s been more an animal than a human a majority of her life. A banshee scream should be able to subdue her should she become more problematic than the others.” Stiles wanted to scream ‘she’s made progress!’ but restrained himself. “If Danny is willing, I’d much prefer it if he would watch Me. Lahey.”  
“I-uh, I guess, if Lydia can get me out of family night tomorrow. My parents don't mind me being around out of the house any other time really.” Lydia nodded reassuringly at him.  
“I can probably get you out of the next 3 family nights.”  
“So Liam will be with me.” Deaton added. “I’ve got packs of mountain ash for everyone, Stiles can tell you how to use it when he takes you home. You’re going to need to pack a bag.”

*

All the arrangements had been made before 12:30. Stiles had text his dad ‘sleeping at scott’s 2night. might be going camping with lydia and some friends this week, but i’ll text you when i know whats happening. love you’, thrown a few books, some mountain ash, his phone charger, a steak knife, his toothbrush and 5 sets of clothes in a bag, considered grabbing his pocket-scrabble set, but changed his mind and just shoved his foldable chess board and pieces in, and had jumped in his jeep to ferry everyone (who didn’t have a car) to their respective wolf. Boyd would be at Argent’s place, Malia and Lydia would be at the lake-house, Isaac and Danny would be in the abandoned underground railcar graveyard, Deaton was gonna hold Liam in the upstairs floor of the clinic, Kira was staying at Scott’s (Lydia would be the one to notify Melissa of the shindig goin’ down, no doubt) and Stiles was on his way to Derek’s. 

Danny had hacked each wolf’s cell and found where it was, and was thus the only reason any of this was working out. How some of the others were planning to transport the wolves to their proposed holding destinations was none of Stiles’ concert, because it sounded way too hard and way too fiddly, and he was just glad Derek’s attic was large enough for the both of them. The abandoned underground railcar graveyard, at least, was gonna be a tight fit. And also creeped Stiles the fuck out.

He seemed to take an eternity to make it up the penthouse of the abandoned building that was Derek’s, but when he did, he found he was suddenly, completely and utterly unable to knock on the door.

So he was incredibly surprised when Derek swung the door in. Probably heard me stumbling up from five floors away, Stiles would have thought, had Derek not looked incredible flushed and clothe-less. As in, underwear and scowl only. Nothing else. Not even socks. “Did I catch you at the wrong time?” Stiles said, only half joking, because it seriously looked as if derek had been halfway through doing something.  
“What in fuck’s name do you think you’re doing here?” Derek demanded immediately, but Stiles was too busy staring at abs that only should have existed in photoshopped-magazine articles and kinky literature. “Stiles.” Derek made his name sound like an order, and fuck if Stiles didn’t like that-  
“I’m coming in.” Stiles garbled awkwardly before rushing under Derek’s arm that was holding on to the frame. The door slammed as Derek rounded on him, yanking back on his shirt (making him lose grip of his duffle bag so it slid across the room) before shoving Stiles against the wall by his collar.  
“Didn’t you get the text?” Derek growled in his face, canines descending. “The one I sent specifically to you?!”  
“Sure I did but- hey, why didn’t you send it to anyone else, actually?” Stiles cocked his head to the side, genuinely curious. “And why aren’t you wearing pants?”

Derek dropped him from where he was holding him against the cold stone. “Get out!” He shouted, holding a single clawed hand to his chest as if scared he would strike out.  
“Calm down, Dude, this isn’t Beauty and the Beast.” Derek growled. “Fine, fine, I’m going, jeez… Let me get my bag, at least.” Before Derek understood his motive, Stiles darted to the left, toward where his bag had landed next to the wall, perfectly where he aimed, for once. He avoided the thin ashy line the hole in his bag had left behind before yanking it up and sprinting to just being Derek, where the alpha caught the smaller man with an arm across his chest, just as expected. Styles used the momentum of his run into Derek to his advantage, as Derek turned slightly to make sure Styles didn’t knock him onto his ass, and threw the duffel toward the door, where the tiny line of mountain ash has begun.

Derek dropped him instantly, after spotting the ash as it crossed over, forming an faultless line. “Stiles-” Stiles scurried out of the ash circle, which was really more of a vague triangle, careful not to disturb it, before Derek had gained enough sense to punch him in the nose. He scrambled to retrieve his bag, desperately trying not to embody the frightened rabbit that he was inside, so that he could properly line all the walls of Derek’s loft (because even though he liked the idea of trapping Derek in a 3x1 meter triangle for a week, Derek deserved better, and also deserved access to his own bathroom). “Stiles, if you don’t tell what in god’s name you’re doing right now I will-”  
“Rip my throat out?” Stiles turned to him. “With your teeth?” Stiles winked before hefting his bag up, quietly proud he wasn’t stuttering. “I’d like to see you try. By the way, do you want some coffee? I saw this really nice looking coffee shop about half a street away.”  
A flash of blue made Stiles pivot to the Alpha, who was pressed up against the barrier. His face was as murderous as ever, yet his lips were parted, as if he were breathing heavy (which didn’t make sense because Derek was never out of breath, especially not after only holding a skinny human 4 inches off the ground). Styles sped up putting down the ash, desperately trying to remember how to walk normally. 

“I’ll explain everything, don’t worry. Maybe I’ll get an iced mocha frappe first-”  
“Stiles.” Derek almost groaned against the barrier. His eyes looked hazy and half-lidded. Stiles sucked in a breath.  
“Or maybe I won’t and I’ll explain everything now!”

Stiles hurriedly finished up marking out a complete circle around the entire perimeter of the downstairs area of the loft, which would still allow access to upstairs via the spiral staircase, thankfully. However, he found it increasingly difficult to focus, because he could feel Derek’s gaze like a tangible force as it raked over his back. 

And he found he liked it way more than he wanted to.

Eventually, Stiles connected the the end of the line to where he had started it, and spun to face the staring Alpha. “You done?” Stiles asked impatiently, trying to use irritation to mask his slight panic and slight not-panic. Stiles didn’t have a name for what it was yet.  
“Are you?” Derek asked gruffly.  
“Sure.” Butt there was a hollowness in his bones that made him feel like he was about to fall over. This was the same fear he’d had at the front door, and he seemed to be losing the momentary nerve he had gained from his adrenaline.  
“What are you scared of?”  
“Why the hell do you think I’m scared?” Stiles shot back hurriedly.  
“I can smell it.”  
Derek’s voice thudded like lead in his stomach. his knee jerk reaction was to deny he was scared at all, make up a joke about Derek projecting, maybe criticize his internal decor at the same time. But his voice had sounded open, and honest, while still staying Derek’s baritone and something in Stiles desperately wanted to tell him the truth. So he did.

“I’m scared of you.” Stiles said quietly. “I think it’s about time I explained why I’m here.”

*

“So, yep. In summary, you’re gonna wanna go make some werewolfies, and I’m here to make sure you don’t.” Stiles finished his epic tale, a full fifteen minutes later. He was sat crosslegged just outside Derek’s little ash triangle, and held his packet of twizzlers over the barrier line, (that let him through obviously, considering Stiles was as ordinary as dirt.) It probably wasn’t any shade of smart to offer an incredibly volatile werewolf sugar, let alone his hand, but Stiles was raised to be polite, damn it. “Want one?”  
“No.” Derek answered monotonously; he been asked that same question about 10 times since he had agreed to sit opposite StIles and listen to him. “Also, that doesn’t make sense.”  
“Sure it does. Deaton said so.” Stiles said easily, as if Deaton wasn’t the most aggravating and unhelpful man they knew. Sure he gave you answers, but only a half at a time, and always in riddle form. “Don’t you feel kinda different?” Derek didn’t reply, because the answer was a definitive ‘fuck yeah I do’ but Stiles didn’t need to know that. “You seem a little different, anyway.” Derek narrowed his eyes at Stiles; he couldn’t possibly know what he’s been doing before Stiles got there, right? “Deaton thinks you’ll bite some people, and I’m gonna trust him, which is why I’ve put you under temporary house arrest. As have everyone else for their cute little charges.”  
Derek ignored the light jab. “But that really doesn’t make any sense.” The alpha thoughtfully put his chin on his hand, and heard Stiles’ heartbeat hitch as he did, which Derek did not understand one bit. “If this instinct is a wolf instinct, as opposed to a werewolf one, and there is a difference actually, then sure we’ll have the desire to increase our pack, but wolves don’t have the urge to bite and turn people into wolves. If this is a wolf’s instinct, and not a werewolf one, increasing the size of the pack would mean-”

Derek stilled, every muscle in his body tensing up. Stiles glanced over his suddenly taut chest and asked a vague “probably what” around the candy he’d stuffed into his mouth while Derek had been talking.  
“I don’t know.” Derek said, but he wouldn't meet Stiles’ eyes. Infact, Derek’s eyes were glassy, focussed on some point on the floor, and his expression suddenly reminded him of Lydia’s, a couple hours earlier. Stiles didn’t appreciate it; there was something he was missing and that two people had now decided to keep from him.  
“Yes, you do.” Stiles leant forward, hands now spread flat inside the triangle and face close to the wolf’s. “I’m going to be living with you indefinitely, so I need to know what the fuck is gonna be going on without you keeping earth-shattering epiphanies from me. Okay?” Stiles demanded. Derek’s blood thrumming a little harder around his body was the only answer to Stiles’ sudden dominance, and he was acutely aware of the fact he was only wearing a loose pair of boxers, a detail he had mysteriously forgotten before now. “Derek? Are you- are you blushing-” a loud trill suddenly broke through the tension as Stiles’ phone began ringing.

Stiles went to his bag to retrieve it. “Yellow, you have reached Wolf Sitters and Whisker Groomers: for all your werewolfy needs… I don’t know, I think I’m pretty funny… Really?... I don’t know, I didn’t have much trouble...That’s good, I guess...Okay, fair enough...Later, Lydia.” He switched off his phone and sat back by Derek, who was still stock still. “She had a little more trouble handling Malia than I did handling you, apparently. Danny text her saying ‘s’all good here’ about an hour ago, and everything else seems to have gone well, if any of these text’s mean anything.” Stiles nodded absentmindedly to his phone before catching sight of Derek again. “Derek, you’re not alright. What’s wrong?” Stiles stepped into the triangle.  
“Don’t! It’s not safe for you!” Derek almost shouted, but his body disagreed with him wholeheartedly about wanting stiles to go where he couldn’t: namely, on the other side of the Mountain Ash. The thought sent the wolf in him into a frenzy. “Do you know what Deaton actually meant by ‘survival instinct’, Stiles? D’you know what the wolf method of coping with species threat is?” Derek reached a hand up to his head, raking his blunt, human nails over his scalp, desperately trying to ground himself from a force that seemed to be counteracting gravity, made stronger by the sudden fear of himself he’d suddenly achieved.  
“Derek, what are you talking about?” Mr. Argent’s warnings about a trapped werewolf intentionally causing hurt to themselves rung like a siren in Stiles head. ‘I’ll break the barrier, okay, just calm down!”  
“Stiles! No-” but it was too late and Stiles had scuffed a thin gap in the barrier; the size of the space incongruously small for the amount of power that escaped through it.

It was like a wave of heat that was so sudden and strong Stiles felt like he could taste it, it almost made him light headed. He could only liken it to stepping off of a well air-conditioned plane into mid summer heat. Everyone had their own smell, Stiles didn’t need to be a werewolf to know that, and fuck him if Derek wasn’t the only thing he could smell at that moment, clear as day and and strong as the arousal in the alpha’s eyes.

Wait what.

Stiles was on his back before his thought’s came to the conclusion, the one now slipping from Derek’s wet mouth and falling directly into Stiles’ ear. Even if Derek didn’t have the hearing of a wolf, the firm hand on his chest would have alerted the alpha to the extreme uptick in Stiles’ pulse.  
“Wolves mate, Stiles.”  
Oh god, Stiles hoped so.

**Author's Note:**

> this monstrosity was un-beta'd and i only have enough patience to check it over about 4 times, so im sorry if theres the odd mistake here and there.
> 
> lets just focus on the fact you made it to the end of the first chapter! well done! also, thank you so much for putting up with me :)  
> but have no fear folks, ill be back soon with chapter two and some actual hot sterek that isn't a terrible tease.  
> Also hit me up with any tags you think i should add to make sure i shove this in as many people faces as is technologically possible  
> laters x


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